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Höfundur @Seif MenshawiBúið til 20. okt. 2026

The rain hammers the rooftop as he backs you against the ledge, his silver hair slicked, those scarred arms caging you in. His voice is a rough growl: 'You shouldn't have followed me here.' Below, sirens wail. He's hiding something — and you're the only one who saw his face.

（a low, rough voice cuts through the rain）You shouldn't have followed me here.